


Reverence

by KendylGirl



Series: The Alchemy of Butterflies [9]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluffed-up sort-of Smut, M/M, POV Alternating, Sleeptalking, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 23:00:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18398108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendylGirl/pseuds/KendylGirl
Summary: One day, 21 hours, and 34 minutes after “In Spirit,” the boys have their rendezvous in Paris.





	Reverence

**Author's Note:**

> Remember when Luca said that, between the two of them, it is Armie who is the innocent one, rather than darling Timmy? I believe him…
> 
> You don't strictly _have_ to read "In Spirit" or the rest of the series for this to make sense, but please please please do! :) 
> 
> To Willowbrooke, my debt only grows; thank you once again!
> 
> “Truth often finds its way to the mind close muffled in robes of sleep, and then speaks with uncompromising directness of matters in regard to which we practice an unconscious self-deception during our waking moments.”  
> Nathaniel Hawthorne, “The Birthmark”

I love him in the morning.It is the only real moment that Tim is ever still—all in one place, all at one time.When he is poised beautifully on the crest of a dream I can witness because his face tells me all I need to know.It always does.Brows raised, mouth fallen open in a perfect red circle, drool soaking the corner of the bedsheet.And I can’t resist him like this.I try to hold him, to ease him over and lay his head on my chest, but he twitches his pale neck and his open mouth falls against my nipple.And it stays there.And closes around it, and every time he swallows, I feel a little kitten lick of his tongue.But he is so fucking adorable, I don’t have the heart to wake him, to tell him he’s driving me mad, warn him he’s making my veins throb with thick, driven blood.So I let him sleep.

And by the time he awakens, I am in tears because I am about to pass out.I have been hard as a rock for an _hour_.And he rolls over, his sleep-laden fingers roaming across my stomach, my hip.He takes one look at my face, and I watch as this sleepy angel snaps to a wicked siren in the space of a single blink.And he pulls himself up inch by inch, and leans over my face, levied on fists that drive into the mattress at the end of locked wire arms, and he whispers, “How did you know?” 

And I can’t even process what he means before he throws his leg over me and flings the sheet back and fucking _groans_ , “How’d you know I was still open for you, Armie?” 

And I can’t even say anything, not a single word.I just stare at him and grip at his thighs, and _God,_ his skin is warm velvet, pure evil, and he just sinks down, taking all of me in one slow glide.And the _sounds_ that he makes, deep and gorgeous, right from the center of his chest, his eyes smashed closed and a goddamn _smirk_ on his face—I mean, is that bliss?Or dominance?Or…I don’t _know_ what, but holy _shit_ he is beautiful, just rolling his hips and letting me hold him and lift him, my own arms caught in the spell that he creates, in the constant undulating ribbon of him, while his own hands pull at his hair and clutch at his neck. And he moans, eyes closed, the whole time, just feeling it all like it’s all for him, like he’s taking something from me, but he’s already taken it all, and everything I have is what he’s already given me, so whatever he wants is his.And he is killing me, body and soul, but I am helpless and I am shameless and I will give everything, every bit, every _cell_ , until there’s nothing left but that desperate, gnawing desire to do it all again.

I can barely breathe because of the heat of him and the way he digs into my ribs with his knees, and the way he fits so perfectly inside my hips, and how his ass brushes the top of my thighs like the breath of God.And he’s leaking so much it’s pooled on my abdomen and spilled in thin lines onto the mattress, but he doesn’t even touch himself, he doesn’t even try, he just keeps moving, slowly, slowly, so _slowly,_ and I feel him clench his muscles deep inside, and I swear I can _see_ God, and my mouth is wide open and I want to scream or praise or beg like a fool, but I can’t even speak, not a single sound.There’s just nothing in my body but what is connected to him, and I have no control over anything, but I don’t care, I don’t want it.I want _him_ to decide, and he knows what to do.He just _knows_.

He lifts, and shifts, and I swear he can tighten individual muscles inside of every part of his body completely at will, because he works me—I mean, he _works_ me—so completely, so patiently.And he just scrubs his hands through his hair and down his chest with his eyes closed and moves like he’s dancing, with grace and confidence and utter abandon, sure of exactly what he’s doing.And I don’t have to tell him when I’m close, when I’m going to shatter into pieces, because he feels it all.He planned it, directed every moment of it, because when I finally lose it, so does he.And he keeps moving, pulls it all out of me, every drop, every shudder, makes sure that we’re both spent and boneless and strung out to the absolute edge of the world.

And when we’re both panting and gasping and drenched with sweat, he finally opens his eyes.He runs his hands through the sticky mess on my belly, digs it out of my navel and rubs it on his own skin.Then he falls forward and shoves his sticky hands into my hair, grooming me with care, wolfish grin printed on his face.

And I fucking _love_ it.I love having his scent all over me, love having him lip at my mouth, too out of breath to actually kiss me, but it doesn’t matter because we just want to taste each other, to feel the other’s lips slick and sloppy, sharing everything, sharing the air, back and forth, his lungs to mine, mine to his.

 

* * *

 

He purrs like a jungle cat, like his dreams are made only of sound.And when I use three fingers to pet the fur on his chest, he curls toward me and smiles—he fucking _smiles_ in his sleep, and his purr gets louder because his lips have pulled open.So I move closer and lay my head below his chin, seal my ear to his skin and let it resonate inside my skull.Gentle and soothing and bone-shattering.

I marvel at the size of him, the bones that never wanted boundaries so they just kept growing.And I can’t help thinking that he has so much to give, so much wonder and magic and insight to share, that his body knew he’d need more, need an expanse to house what the average man could never hold.The goodness seeps out of his pores, and when he sleeps, I want to lather myself in it, to coat myself from sole to crown in him so that I can feel it on my skin when he’s far away, when I’m triggered and tetchy and hate the day for being so bright.If I close my eyes and pull into my mind, I can feel it everywhere, like a blanket fresh from the dryer, hear the echo of that rumbling purr, feel it vibrate inside my own chest.And in a business full of falseness, full of tin and flattery, it is my only protection. It’s the only thing I can take with me everywhere that is real and constant and whole.

I lift his arm and crawl inside, pull it down behind me, push back until I feel the soft tickle of his fur light every nerve in my back. _My hideaway_.Nothing gets me here.Nothing bad could find me when I’m tucked inside my very own tiger.

I snug my chin on his bicep and pull his palms to my face, kiss each one and let them blanket my arm and chest.And his fingers always straighten, like he knows I want to be covered and safe, like he can feel my chill weariness even while he sleeps, like he’s tucking me in with his very own skin.

And then he talks to me, lets me into his sound dreams.

“Armie?”I whisper it, but I don’t know why I bother.I know how he sleeps.He throws himself into slumber like everything else in his life.I’d have to clip jumper cables to his gonads to wake him up.

“Timmy cake pan.”It’s just a sigh.

“You love me?”

“Apple bear.”Lips smack, swallowed down.A hum.

“Yeah?”

“Angel curl in my face, Timmy.”

I smile, straight down to my feet.

“Is that yours?”

“Keeping it.Sunshine.”

He’s going to fucking kill me.“I like sunshine.It’s warm.”

“Waaarrrrmmm,” he purrs, clutching his paws tighter around my shoulders.“Timmy bones.Feel bones.”

“What the—hey, you calling me bony, old man?”I gnaw on his forearm.“Am I too skinny for you?”

“Feel it.”He licks his lips.“Timmy’s in my bones.”

I have to shut my eyes for a moment. _Jesus_.This fucking man is too much for me.“I like it there,” I whisper.“I love Armie’s bones.And Armie’s skin.”A lick to the inside of his wrist.“Armie’s heart.”I rub my cheek against his bicep.“Armie’s mind and his fingers and his kneecaps.I love Armie.”

“Love.”His legs curl up underneath mine.“Timmy is love.”

“Just for you,” I breathe.“ _Always_ for you.”I feel a surge of tears, and I am not sure why.“I could not know what love really is—I _wouldn’t_ know—without you.”The words puff out of my mouth like a fog.“You’re good, Armie.”

“Goooodddd,” he echoes.

“Yes.Good.”

“But Timmy’s better.”

“No,” I choke out, tears flowing now. _Fuck_.“No.Timmy’s not. _Armie_ is good.Armie is _amazing_.Please don’t forget that.”

“Don’t forget.”

I feel his forehead settle on my hair, rub it in a circle while hot breath steams my neck. _Don’t ever leave me_.“I will _never_ forget.”

 

* * *

 

My phone beeps again.

_Tell your man to brace himself.He’s in my hands now._

I smirk.“My sister says hello.”

His eyes look up from where he is tying his shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed.“Yeah, I’ll bet.”His lips twist to a smirk to match mine.He knows her too well.

“She’s looking forward to showing you the city, that’s all.”

He stands and cocks his head, eyes boring into me.His eyes are so blue this morning.Maybe he’s over his jet lag.Maybe he has needed this break as much as I have.Maybe it’s Paris’s magic.

Maybe it’s just _him_.

“I’ve been here dozens of times.You know that.”

I bite my bottom lip.“Well, you need to see it again, don’t you? _Comme un Chalamet_.”I run my fingers up his chest, under the lapels of his jacket.I can feel his giant lungs inhale to their full capacity.It seeps back out to me slowly through his mouth because his jaw is ajar.

“I can barely handle one of you.How am I going to survive _two_ Chalamets?”His eyes are piercing, and he is so fucking gorgeous that he makes my knees feel loose. 

I blush.I can feel it, feel the heat on my cheeks and my neck, and I look down at my feet.After all this time, he still makes me blush like a fucking ten-year-old girl, just by looking at me. _This man_.“Don’t worry.You’re safe.”I step closer to him until my face is right below his chin.“We kind of like you.”

There is a peek of white through his lips.“Yeah?”

I kiss his cheek gently and whisper, “Yeah,” against his skin. _Why does he always smell so good?_

When I try to step away towards the door of our room, but he stops me with a hand on my shoulder.“How much?”

He is so perfect, I don’t know how to pretend to be calm, to feign indifference when I want to lick his face and suck his tongue into my throat.I look away, sigh heavily, and zip my coat.Then, I slowly raise my head to meet his gaze again.“Enough for a lifetime.”

He smiles slowly.With calculation. _What is going on?_ “Good.”The smile grows.“That’s very good.”

 

* * *

 

His cheeks are red, and a shy and blushing Timmy is my absolute favorite one of all.His eyebrows flick together.He knows I’m hiding something.I can never keep anything from him, so that’s where Pauline comes in.She is a veritable genius, and she has totally missed her calling as a criminal mastermind.She could convince the sun that it’s the moon and make it rise every night.Pauline is the only operative I need to complete any mission.

**Author's Note:**

> An Armie mission? It’s covert, it’s Top Secret, and it’s one that cannot fail.
> 
> And I know nothing about Pauline Chalamet, yet I am somehow convinced it is she I’d like to be when I grow up. :)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this, and I pray you'll give me some feedback because it's awfully lonely behind this laptop screen...
> 
> I'm posting the next installment in short order as it goes in combination with this one!


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